For 10 days and nights the world had watched, stunned and mystified, as the United States and coalition forces strained to expel invading Iraqi troops from Kuwait. The gory conflict was captured, live and in full Technicolor, but in the Gulf War’s early moments, as the initial aerial bombardment filled television screens, the world was still raw from viewing these brutal scenes as they unfolded.

Soon yellow ribbons sprouted throughout America’s neighborhoods, symbolic talismans that were tied around trees or pasted on windows so that our soldiers might find their way home. Patriotism burned hot. By the time Super Bowl XXV drew near, barely a week had passed since the first coalition bombs had dropped into the Persian Gulf, and folks on these shores yearned to shout and rattle their fists.

Into this feverish cauldron came Whitney Houston. She wore a white headband, a demure and flowing white tracksuit with red and blue trimmings, and an angelic smile. It was January 27, 1991, America was at war, and goodness, did America ever need an escape. It found it in Houston, who stepped to the edge of the field at Tampa Stadium and made a nation cry.

That Super Bowl would be awash with grand, breathtaking memories. There were the New York Giants barely edging the much-favored Buffalo Bills, 20-19; there was kicker Scott Norwood’s last-ditch field goal sailing wide right of the uprights. Those crystalline moments pushed the game high into the pantheon of great sporting events, but it was Houston’s rendition of the Star Spangled Banner against the backdrop of war that rendered it timeless.

Unlike other celebrity singers who try to outshine the anthem, there was no need for Houston to fiddle with the song’s pace or alter its rhythm. She showed off nothing but her stunning vocal range, each pitch infused with her gospel background, her athleticism magnified by her tremendous lung power and endurance.

She was pure of timbre and bursting with emotion. Backed by the Florida Orchestra, Houston carried the final note flawlessly. Deep into the night she belted “home of the brave,” and by the time the lyrics settled fully, there wasn’t a dry eye from Florida to Saudi Arabia.

It was there, on military bases or in desert tents, that many of the troops watched live this transcendent and dramatic presentation of one of America’s most eminent ballads. This Super Bowl marked the first time it was telecast in most countries beyond North America and the United Kingdom. It was beamed into parts of the Middle East, into far reaches of Russia, into a pavilion in Bondi, Australia.

And it was there, in this beach suburb of Sydney that was now my home, where I heard Frank Gifford introduce Houston to a global audience, and all these years later Gifford still calls it “the most electric moment I’ve ever seen in sports.” That morning in that pavilion I was excited to teach my Aussie pals about this complicated and sometimes violent sport they called gridiron, but after Houston’s show-stopper it was a long while before I could properly speak.

Giants running back Ottis Anderson and the Bills’ Thurman Thomas defied gravity, for they were impossible to drag down. After just a few plays, no longer did my Aussie friends think the Septics—their charming word for Americans—were wimps for wearing all those pads. Norwood’s missed kick caused all of us visceral pains, half a world away.

But we all left that pavilion raving about the gorgeous singer out of Newark, N.J. My brother Craig was one of those American soldiers serving in the Persian Gulf. It was as if from Houston’s dulcet voice emerged a rainbow, linking us all.

With her death Saturday, at age 48, comes all those awful questions about fate and legacy and the cruel, tragic choices Houston made along the way. It is tough not to picture her lying there in the bathroom of a suite on the fourth floor of the Beverly Hilton, as Clive Davis’ glittery pre-Grammy party raged below.

It’s better for the soul to wipe away that terribly sad vision and travel through the kindness of YouTube, to the night when Houston’s majestic voice bounced off stars and circled the planet. It helps to remember how she humbled us, left us in awe, made us feel so very connected and alive.